I met Zechariah’s gaze, and though the hallway was narrow, it felt a little safer having him farther away.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” he said, “so I will try to keep my distance. But remember what I’ve told you, Maggie.”
“That you’re scared to lose me?”
“That I love you.” His gaze was so intense, so powerful, it made my pulse gallop.
“I will remember,” I promised, but I couldn’t tell him I lovedhim in return. Not because it wasn’t true—a part of me loved him a great deal—but because it wasn’t fair. Not yet.
I left him to return to my room to freshen up for supper. I was weak from the encounter, my emotions running amok. If I knew anything about Zechariah Philips, it was that spending my life with him would be an incredible, passionate adventure.
What I didn’t know was if we’d destroy each other in the process.
28
OCTOBER 21, 1861
WASHINGTON, DC
“You have to eat your supper, Private Aleckson,” I said to the young man sitting up in his bed at the Judiciary Square Hospital the next evening. “You want to get strong again so you can rejoin your regiment, don’t you?”
“I refuse to eat until you agree to marry me, Miss Wakefield.” He grinned, revealing his tender youth. Though he said he was eighteen, I wouldn’t guess him a day over sixteen.
I readjusted the pillow behind his back. “What would your mama say if you brought home an old maid?”
“You’re hardly an old maid.” Private Aleckson scoffed. “And you’re about the prettiest lady I’ve ever met, with those blue eyes and dimples. Mama would be proud of me.”
My cheeks warmed, though I had grown used to such talk here at the hospital. My work helped keep my mind off Zechariah and his confession the day before. I had known for a long time that his feelings were growing, but I hadn’t realized the depth of them until yesterday. Even though I’d always worried about the grief I would cause my marked parents and my siblingsif I left 1941, it paled in comparison to the pain I would cause Zechariah, especially with his past.
I didn’t like to think about it—so I didn’t. At least, not today.
Darkness hovered outside the tall windows in the classroom-turned-hospital ward. Twenty beds had been crammed into the room with less than two feet to walk between each one, and they were all full of men recuperating from camp illnesses and accidents. It was cool, as all the windows were open, since the prevailing belief among physicians was that foul airs, or miasmas, carried poisonous emanations that caused diseases. I knew this not to be true, but the fresh air helped remove some of the stench and staleness.
“I’ll eat,” Private Aleckson said, favoring his left arm, which he’d broken after falling out of a wagon bed, “but only because I want to be nice and strong for our wedding day.”
Laughing, I shook my head and handed him a bowl of ham and cabbage soup.
As he took it, he nodded at the door and said, “Looks like someone’s here to see you, Miss Wakefield.”
Turning, I was surprised to see Gray standing just inside the room, his hat in his hand. Butterflies filled my stomach, and I couldn’t hide the smile that lit my face. It was the first time I’d seen him since he’d guessed my true identity. The bond and rush of affection I felt for him astonished me.
He returned my smile, though his was sad.
“Will you excuse me?” I asked my patient.
“Who is he?” Private Aleckson demanded, half-teasing. “Should I be concerned that he’s here to steal my girl?”
I ruffled his hair like I would my brother Teddy’s and said, “Eat your soup.”
He did as I told him, and I joined Gray at the door.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” I said. “What brings you here?”
Gray touched my arm. “Can we talk privately?”
My smile fell as I nodded. “Of course.”
I led him out of the room and down the lantern-lit hall. The door at the end exited onto a courtyard where there would be a little privacy, though the kitchen building wasn’t too far away, and it was dark out. The air was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and I was too concerned about the gravity of Gray’s mood to worry about not having a shawl with me.
